


Dr Doolittle

by themegalosaurus



Series: Slytherin Sam [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Parseltongue, Slytherin Sam Winchester, Snakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2019-09-07 02:57:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16845775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themegalosaurus/pseuds/themegalosaurus
Summary: Sam's got skills.





	Dr Doolittle

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by my Tumblr pal @captainlitebrite who responded to my previous Slytherin!Sam fic with the observation that he's so Slytherin he's probably a Parseltongue

OK so turns out Dean doesn’t like snakes either. Snakes and planes. There’s probably a joke in there somewhere.

Anyway, Sam’s fine with them. More than once, when they’ve been in the woods, he’s fished a scaly wriggly body discreetly out of the bottom of their tent, carried it away to get lost in the bushes where Dean couldn’t see. He likes to leave his brother his dignity (most of the time).

Right now, nobody’s looking especially dignified. There’s a huge great… well, sea-serpent isn’t quite the right word given that this is a freshwater lake, but it’s huge and it’s hissing and it’s snake-shaped enough that Dean’s gone to jelly at the exact wrong moment, trembling transfixed too close to the water with his weapon useless in his hands. Sam’s been flung by a whiplash tail so far away that there’s just no chance he’ll reach his brother before the thing shoots forward to strike. It’s preparing now, rearing back and upward, fangs bared, and Sam watches it draw tight like a bowstring, sees the seconds splitting before him. Just as it starts to shift like it’s going to snap down right onto Dean, he opens his mouth and hisses desperate “STOP. GET BACK.”

For a miracle, the serpent stops, poised with its head held high. Its yellow eyes flick sideways, Sam-ward. Its tongue flickers. “STOP,” Sam says again. “GET AWAY.” There’s a long pause, elongated, silent, where the trees and the lake and the gathering clouds all seem to freeze. A shiver starts at the top of Sam’s spine and prickles its way across his skin down to his fingers and the tips of his toes.

Then Dean, somehow, freed from his immediate terror and the serpent’s golden gaze, unfixes himself and discharges the harpoon from the heavy red gun that he’s holding. It whistles with a focused hiss straight into the serpent’s breast, doubling the beast over with the impact. Black blood sprays out of the hole, front and back, jetting in inky arcs down into the water. The serpent flails, tips its head toward the sky, screams and falls back into the lake with a crash that sends waves rolling outward to the shore, soaking Dean where he’s standing. Sam starts to run.

“Dude,” says Dean, pushing back soft wet spikes of hair. “Did you speak to it? In… snake?”

“Uh,” Sam says. “Yeah.” There’s a reason to be grateful that Dean doesn’t read his nerdy books. “Um… parseltongue. It’s, uh, a serpent language, kinda thing. I’ve been studying it. Thought it might come in handy.”

This is a lie. Sam never studied Parseltongue a day in his life. He never knew he could speak it until now. For obvious reasons, he finds the discovery disturbing.

“Huh,” says Dean. He claps Sam on the shoulder with a squelchy-damp hand. “Thanks, Dr Doolittle.”

“Sure,” Sam says. He’ll take that; Dr Doolittle. It’s better than You-know-who.


End file.
